Delusions Based In Reality
by Apocalypse Betty
Summary: Set in the Scooby Apocalypse comics universe, some time after issue #36. Daphne makes a road trip to Fred's old apartment, while Ghost Fred (or mental illness) makes another appearance. Rated M for suicidal thoughts/references.
1. Chapter 1

Daphne unfurled her roadmap across the steering wheel. Getting to Fred's apartment was a lot harder then she orignally thought. A few days drive had turned into a three week journey.

Everyone had begged her not to go.

"_You'll get yourself killed," Velma shrieked._

_"That's like, probably, the worst idea you've ever had," Shaggy stated._

_Cliffy had hugged her tight and so did Daisy, but they hadn't said a word._

_Scrappy shook his head in disbelief, while Scooby whined and pawed at her leg._

_Quentin Dinkley stood in the corner, stoic and silent as always._

_"I just need to leave for a while," Daphne explained, "Clear my head._"

_She did not tell her friends that Fred's death still tore her to pieces, even a year later. Watching Velma and Shaggy hold their infant son, Frederick, pained her to the core. She was pleased that they had found happiness in each other in this post apocalyptic hellscape, but it only served as a reminder of what she lost, and would never have again._

She'd taken several detours already due to collapsed bridges and lanes clogged with abandoned vehicles. It amazed her how terrible traveling was when there was no infrastructure. Something everyone took for granted before the nanine apocalypse.

She'd seen a few monsters on the way, but not nearly as much as there used to be. So far, no other survivors. Those were even rarer then the mutated monstrosities.

It was late in the afternoon when she finally pulled up to the four-story brick complex. It was a dilapidated structure before the nanites took over, but now it looked positively desolate.

Daphne creaked open the apartment building's glass door, the hinges rusty with disuse. The air was stale and sour, burning her nose. She clicked her flashlight on and saw nothing moving except dust motes. She shone it around the entranceway, coming to land on the mailboxes mounted to the wall.

Daphne brought her gloved hand up to dust off of the name labels that ran along the top.

_Ashley J. Gonzalez 1A…_

_Courtney D. Griffin 2C…_

_Trayvon L. Morales 3E…ahhh, here we are…_

_Fred H. Jones 4B_

She smiled as she ran her fingers over the crumbling nametag. The familiarity of seeing his name reassured her that this trip was a good idea. She had found the right place.

Daphne pulled her pistol from its holster and clicked the hammer back. No telling what might still be lurking in here.

She walked down the long hallway, and heard nothing but the sounds of her own boots. Daphne shone the flashlight into the open elevator and saw piles of bones and dried blood splattered on the walls. The flesh and organs of the unfortunate souls had long since rotted away.

_Poor bastards._

She took the stairwell up to the fourth floor, and was not suprised to see that more human remains littered the steps. The sound of bones crunching underfoot echoed loudly in the small space.

_Great. If anything is still here, I just rang the dinner bell._

She paused with her gun out and listened intently. Hearing nothing else, she continued upstairs.

She walked past 4A's door, getting a giddy feeling the closer she got to Fred's apartment. Daphne's grin spread from ear to ear when she recognized the red door with peeling paint. The number 4 was clearly there, but the metal B had fallen off ages ago. Fred had said he'd fix it eventually, the door forever remaining this way.

She pulled on the handle to find it locked. Not a problem, Fred always kept his spare key on the top of the door frame. Daphne stood on her tip toes and felt around until her fingers brushed the key. Bringing it down she opened the handle lock and the deadbolt easily.

Daphne had expected a lot things. It wouldn't have shocked her if Fred's place had been swarmed with monsters or if the apartment building itself was completely in ruins. What she had not anticipated, however, was for his familiar scent to hit her like a wall of bricks.

Normally, his cologne and natural musk was very faint and light, but in his living space, it permeated everything.

The fragrance reopened the ache in her heart. She never thought she'd smell that unique scent again, but now that she was emersed in it, the tears came suddenly.

Her breathing wasn't hitched and she didn't make any noise, but the tears trickled down nonetheless.

She walked into his apartment and saw that nothing had changed in the few years they'd been gone. As clean and put together as the day they had left to meet Dr. Velma Dinkley at the Burning Man Festival about some sort of cover-up scandal.

She looked down at her boots and didn't even flinch when she felt the pressure of hands on her shoulders. She was getting used to these suprise visits from phantom Fred. He tended to pop in when she was feeling her lowest. Was that a good thing or a bad one?

He whistled, "Home sweet home, huh?"

Daphne shook her head, "No. Your home is now a refrigerator box buried six feet under. I would know, I dug it."

Fred moved his hands down her arms, "My home is where ever you are, Daph."

Daphne sighed, and moved out from under his touch towards his extensive DVD collection. Despite his sparse apartment, his movie shelf was several layers thick with classics.

She didn't look back at him, only assumed he was still standing there, "You would have made an amazing director, Fred. You always dreamed about making a big blockbuster."

When he didn't respond, Daphne felt an intense flash of anger, and her tone became accusing, "Why on Earth did you choose to follow me again? Essentially being my camera golf caddy?"

Fred smiled, "I told you already. I did follow my dream. _You_ were my dream. I think our relationship was way better than any red carpet opening."

Daphne pulled out an older DVD from the shelf_, Chimes at_ _Midnight_. She flipped it over to read the back cover, "Do you remember talking about this movie in Film Studies 101?"

Fred chuckled as he took the film case from her hands, "Of course. It was the first time I saw you. I was starstruck."

She smiled for the first time since stepping inside the lonely apartment, "I wasn't famous yet, Fred."

He placed the film back in it's place on the shelf, "You walked in and the whole world melted away from me. The professor's lecture seemed like it was at a distance. NYU could have burned down and all I would have noticed was you."

The worn out couch made an audible squeak when she sat down on it. Her shoulders began to rock again from a fresh wave of tears.

Fred stood in front of her and kneeled down, glowy and transparent, "I'm sorry, Daph. I don't want to upset you."

Daphne looked into his blue eyes, "Just you being here makes me upset. Why don't you go away? Go back to where ever you came from!"

He shrugged, "Because you need me. You always have."

Fred took her head in his hands and kissed her lips softly. Daphne felt the pressure of his lips on hers, as well as his hand when he wiped away her tears.

She glanced at him as if seeing him for the first time, "Are you real?"

He stroked her cheek, not breaking the eye contact, "I'm as real as you believe me to be."

Daphne swallowed hard, "Am I crazy, Fred? Is that what this is?"

Fred's eyes were honest, "Since losing me you've become a bit…unstable."

He pulled her to his mouth again, providing what comfort he could.


	2. Chapter 2

Daphne's eyes were still closed when she pulled back from Fred's kiss, "I think I need to ask Velma if she has any anti-psychotic meds in stock. I don't think it's healthy that I keep talking to you. Kissing you."

When she opened her eyes, it made her heart sink that he had already vanished, leaving her truely alone in the apartment. As in life, ghost Fred was just following her direction, so why did it hurt so much?

The couch springs squealed when she stood up. As if in a daze, Daphne made her way down Fred's hallway, trailing her fingers down the wall as she walked. She skimmed the tips of her digits over hanging framed pictures.

The dusty photos were mostly of her and Fred during some of the happiest times together; on their graduation day from NYU, watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square, a promo photo of their show, _Enigma Quest._

She stopped at the last picture. It was from when they dated briefly in Freshman year. She never told Fred, but it was her favorite. Daphne was looking at the camera, smiling wide, while Fred was smirking into her neck, his arms around her waist. The breeze was blowing her hair and the bright sun glinted off of his sunglasses. True happiness.

_Why did I never tell Fred how I felt? Was it really so hard to say_ 'I love you'.

Now…there was no more I love you's to say.

Daphne pulled the frame off the nail and held the picture close to her chest. _I'm taking this one with me._

So lost in thought was she, that Daphne didn't hear the grotesque creature crawling slowly towards her, the carpet muffling it's sound.

She was still holding the photo, tears making their way down her cheeks again when the monster unleashed its claws and dug down deep into her leg.

Daphne shrieked in pain, as the nanite beast tightened it's grip, the nails digging further into her flesh, blood flowing freely from the wounds. The nanite brute reached up to swipe her face, but missed, and swatted at the precious picture in her arms. The frame smashed against the wall, hitting the floor in pieces.

Daphne took advantage of the distraction and pulled her loaded pistol from it's holster. When the creature opened its mouth wide, revealing rows and rows of endless shark-like fangs, she shoved the gun down it's throat and pulled the trigger twice, sending bone, brain, and blood all over Fred's clean apartment.

The now headless corpse slumped to the ground; however, it's claws were still embedded in her skin, holding on in an almost desperate gesture. She had to peel it's fingers back, hearing bones cracking as she tugged the talons out of her flesh.

She stood still, listening to hear anymore movement, but there wasn't any. Grabbing the carcass by it's foot, she drug it to the hallway outside of Fred's apartment, blaming herself for her stupidity when she noticed she had left the door standing wide open.

_God, I'm such an idiot_. _Well, it's not the first dumb mistake I've made,_ she thought, as she recalled the day Fred died, killed because she took one second to kiss him.

Daphne locked the door, bolted it shut, and pulled the chain lock over just for good measure.

She sighed when she saw the bloody fluid trail all over Fred's carpet. The corpse's nastiness had desecrated her little slice of heaven. She, for once, was glad that Fred wasn't here to witness this mess. He was a well-known germaphobe.

Daphne bent down to pick up the shattered remains of her prized photo. The frame was broken, but the picture might still be okay. She turned it over in her hands and saw that the monster's nails had slashed perfectly over their faces. It was completely destroyed.

She felt her heart disintegrate as she wadded the photo up and tossed it across the room. Daphne slumped against the wall sliding down to the soiled carpet, before screaming out loud, "Why can't I have anything? Do I not deserve even a little bit of peace?"

She laid her head on her knees, sobbing, not caring if anything else in the building heard.

Daphne felt Fred's fingers softly graze her hair, "It's just a picture, Daph. I have tons here."

She sniffled and looked up, "But that one was my favorite. We were so happy…"

Fred smiled, "We were happy in all of them, Daphne."

Daphne looked away from his transparent body, "It's not just the photo, Fred. It's everything. Velma has Shaggy. They both have Frederick, Daisy has-"

"You have me, Daph," he said, offering his hand to help her up, "you'll always have me."

She took his hand, confused at how a halucination could pull her physical weight, but she didn't question it.

He saw the bleeding wound in her leg, "You need to clean that, before it gets infected."

Daphne looked down, as if noticing her injury for the first time, "Yeah."

Fred pointed to his bathroom, "There's a first aid kit in there, under the sink."

She waved him off as she walked by, "I know, Freddie, I know."

The monster had clawed her good, high up on her thigh. She unbuckled her pants and pulled them down to better inspect the gashes.

Ghost Fred followed her into the bathroom and covered his eyes out of modesty when he noticed her state of undress.

Daphne laughed at that, "You're dead! You can look all you want. Who're you going to tell?"

Fred grinned, "Since the nanites took over there's actually a lot more people on this side, then yours."

After poking around on her thigh, she decided it didn't need homemade stitches, just some antiseptic ointment and bandages.

Fred continued, "My family's all on this side now. Yours is too. Your father says hello by the-"

"Shut up, Fred. Just shut up," Daphne hollered. She picked up the first aid kit and slung it at the phantom's head. Not surprisingly, the box soared right through him, denting the wall. "You don't know shit. You're just some psychological glitch to help me cope."

She went back to patching her leg. Even though the ghost wasn't real, she felt a twinge of guilt for her outburst; the need to apologize. She was always doing this to him when Fred was alive, she didn't want to continue this habit in death.

Without glancing up, she said, "I'm sorry, Fred. Knowing that every one I love is gone is a hard thing to process."

She glimpsed up at Fred, hoping he would understand. But he was gone, back into the recesses of her mind, she supposed.

Daphne leaned her head against the cool bathroom mirror. As alone as she will ever be.


	3. Chapter 3

Peeking out of the blinds, Daphne saw that the sun was going down. It would be safer to stay in the apartment for now, indoors, then to hunker down in the car at night.

She limped her way to Fred's tiny kitchen. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the claw wounds in her leg were getting tender. She needed something to take the edge off, some booze perhaps?

Fred was a pretty straight arrow, he hardly ever drank alcohol. And every year without fail, her father would gift him an expensive bottle of rum or bourbon. She supposed it was a power move on her father's part.

She opened Fred's pantry, and sure enough, on the bottom shelf sat six unopened, high-end beverages. She picked up one, a whiskey, still covered in Christmas ribbon with a tag that read _"Happy Holidays Fred, From George Nedley Blake". _She would notice her father's distinctive signature anywhere.

Normally her father would have his pretty secretary scribble out the nametag, but when it came to Fred it was always personal. He must have seen the love between her and Fred, before even Daphne could recognize it.

_Oh well. Too late now.. _

Grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet and blowing dust off the bottom, she filled one-third of the glass. She considered a moment, and then she shrugged her shoulders, why not more? What was she saving it for anyway? She poured enough for several extra shots.

Daphne sat back down on Fred's rickety couch, mug of whiskey in hand. She pulled out her pistol, now covered in that nanite bastard's fluids, and placed it on the coffee table. It would need to be cleaned soon, the dried gunk could cause it to jam when she needed it the most.

_Or maybe…_

She might leave it as it is. Hopefully, one of those monstrosities would take her out soon, let her join Fred in peace. It would save her from having to do it herself one day. Daphne knew that if she didn't meet her end at the hands of a blood-thirsty abomination, it would be by her own choosing. Most likely with a gun in her mouth.

In fact, right here, surrounded by Fred's memories and possessions, would make an appropriate tomb. As close to him as she could possibly get.

Daphne sipped the whiskey, savoring the warm burn going from her throat to her stomach, and strongly contemplated the idea. It would be a lie if she said she didn't think about it daily since Fred breathed his last. She had come so close once, and then the nanite resurrected Fred showed up and foiled everything.

She clasped the mug tightly to her chest, deep in thought, when Fred's soothing voice echoed throughout the apartment, "Don't even think about it, Daphne Ann Blake."

She frowned, "You're not omni-present, Fred. You don't know what I was thinking."

He sighed deeply, and she felt the couch shift as Fred's ghost sat down beside her. "I don't have to read minds to know what's going on in that gorgeous brain of yours. We've been friends for so long I can see it on your face. You're wanting to end it, so you can be with me."

She didn't respond, and found she couldn't help the tears as they silently made wet tracks down her cheeks. They sat there for some time in the quiet until she whispered, "There's nothing here for me anymore, Freddie."

He reached for her hand and she didn't pull it away, "You still have Velma, Shaggy…"

"They're good friends," she said, her tone sharp, "But they can't love me the way you did."

Daphne tipped up the mug and drained it of the last bit of whiskey, "You were the only thing of value to me in this post-apocalyptic hell. With you gone…it's all meaningless."

Fred gently rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, "You have your little godson now, Frederick. He's a cutie."

"Yes, he is," Daphne's lips curved upwards into a small smile and her eyes took on a far away look, "You would have made a wonderful father, Fred. You always wanted kids."

"There's still time for that to happen, Daph. You might meet someone else."

Daphne shook her head, tears flowing more freely, "No..."

Her sentence trailed off as her shoulders started to quake. Fred pulled her close, letting her sob again into his transparent neck.

XXXXXX

When Daphne awoke, she found herself alone, per usual, still on the couch. Her neck very stiff from sleeping in an unnatural position.

It must be early morning, the sun not yet peeking between the blinds. Might as well go sleep in an actual bed then.

She stood up, stretching her back and arms, enjoying the little pops and cracks of her bones and sauntering lazily towards Fred's bedroom.

Despite his scent overwhelming her emotions earlier, this time it embraced her, like a friendly hug, the moment she opened the bedroom door.

This space was where his smell was the strongest, and she let it envelop her completely, like a cozy comforter. Despite her sadness, being in a room that was so intimately Fred made her smile.

Her grin grew wider when she noticed that his bed was still made, crisp and clean. He was always so neat and tidy. Even after the fall of the civilized world, Daphne would catch him gently folding up their blankets and straightening their cots.

She looked down at her own worn-out clothing, which hadn't been washed in days, and was now covered in a layer of dried monster grime. She couldn't defile Fred's perfectly kept bed with her filth.

She shrugged off her jacket, unbuttoning her shirt. Her hands unlatched her utility belt, dropping it to the floor. Stepping out of her pants and underthings, Daphne took a deep, shaky breath.

She knew she shouldn't be undressing like this; not here, not now. This area wasn't even completely secure. Not the best place to be at her most vulnerable.

_But_…

Fred's bed. It was so clean. One of the few things left in the world that remained untarnished.

She reached out and flipped the top comforter down, the cloth crisp from disuse. When she slid inside, between the sheets and blankets, any thoughts of doubt fled her mind. The material was cool against her bare skin, and Fred's scent already lulling her to sleep.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that he was with her, arms holding her close to him…

She didn't have to pretend long as she suddenly felt his large hands rubbing down her naked back. Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "I'm trying to get some sleep, not be felt up by a touchy-feely phantom."

She felt Fred's chuckle against her shoulder, "So which is it, Daph? Am I a spirit haunting you? Or am I a figment of your fractured mind?"

He brushed the hair off the nape of her neck and placed a light kiss there while awaiting her answer.

Daphne licked her lips, "I don't know anymore. You seem to be both, but not enough to be either. And I still haven't figured out how you can move things and," she inhaled deeply when he nipped her earlobe, "and touch me like that."

Fred smiled, even though she wasn't able to see it. "What a conundrum, huh? This would be a fabulous episode on Daphne Blake's Mysterious Mysteries."

"Hands off, Casper," she growled, but with a slight smirk.

Fred chastely kissed the back of her head and nuzzled against her, "Yes, ma'am."

For the first time in a long time, she dived head first into a peaceful, deep slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

Daphne awoke to the deep, melodic tones of Frank Sintra singing his classic holiday hit, _Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire._

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, raking her fingers through her hair. For a brief moment, wrapped in Fred's sheets and scent, she could have fooled herself into thinking that the last few years was all a horrific nightmare.

When she stretched her sore injured leg, however, she slammed into the hard brick wall of reality. The nanite apocalypse remained ongoing, Fred was still dead, his spirit (or her hallucinations) was still making frequent uncomfortable visits.

Climbing out of bed and dressing quickly, she toed silently into the living room, not at all shocked to see her favorite phantom, Fred, standing before his stereo. Knowing she was behind him, he said, "I missed this song. I just love Christmastime."

Daphne smiled, "I remember."

He gestured for her to join him, and she did. Laying her head on his shoulder, swaying softly to the tune.

Fred's lips brushed her ear, "You need to head back to the gang soon. Velma and Shaggy are getting worried. They're thinking of sending out a search team for you."

"I never told them where I was going," she sighed, "They won't know where to look. It'll just put more people in danger."

"Then you should hurry."

Her gut dropped to her knees. Daphne knew she couldn't linger in this little slice of heaven forever, but she was hoping to stay longer. "I guess I'll leave today. Just let me pack some things."

She grabbed a duffel and began to stuff it with a few momentos to keep her sane for a while; a bottle of Fred's cologne, a few of his favorite shirts, some ascots, and plenty of pictures.

Daphne lugged the full bag over her shoulder and took one more glance around his apartment, soaking in the memories. In spite of how dangerous this wild escapade of hers had been, it felt good in her soul, making her heart light. This trip had been needed. Maybe she could make a journey here once a year; her own little private Mecca.

When she reached for the door knob, she felt Fred tugging on her elbow, "Hey Daph, if you take my motorcycle it might save you some time. It's better on gas. With all the crumbling bridges and burnt out wrecks blocking the roads, it would be easier to navigate."

"Yeah, I'd say you're right," she nodded, grabbing the cycle keys hanging on the wall.

After some gas siphoning and a lot of praying to a god that Daphne didn't really believe in, Fred's motorcycle roared to life, the engine rumbling between her legs. For the first time in a long while she felt…content? It was an unfamiliar feeling, but a welcome one. A soft, genuine grin appeared on her face as she drove the cycle out of the apartment garage.

Heading back to HQ seemed much easier then trying to locate Fred's apartment, cutting days off the return trip. The bike made it a breeze to weave in and out of traffic jams that would never end, and avoiding enormous potholes that would never be repaired. Daphne supposed that the nation's road systems had another three years or so before mother nature reclaimed it all.

Fred had also been correct on the gas usage. It took much less fuel than her clunky car, taking no time to fill up when needed. On days when the weather was bad, she took shelter, and avoided driving at night since streetlights were a luxury of the old world.

Surprisingly, the trip had been relatively peaceful. Daphne had spotted one or two monsters lurking in shady alleyways, but none had attempted to come closer. She saw lots of skeletons and badly decayed bodies beside the road, but no sign of other survivors.

Passing through what used to be a one-road town, Daphne daydreamed about how big little Frederick must have gotten in her absence, his cute little chubbiness getting impossibly cuter.

She stopped at a fork in the road, trying to recall which direction to take when a shriek, clearly human, cut through the silent dead town and jarred her to the core. A noise that could only be from pain and sheer terror. The wail was clearly audible even over the loud hum of the motorcycle. It's a sound that couldn't be ignored.

Fred's voice was urgent in her ear, "It's not your responsibility, Daphne. You can't save everyone."

"I didn't save everyone. I couldn't save you."

His ghostly hands squeezed her shoulders as if he were on the bike behind her, "Just go home. Please? I hate it when you put yourself needlessly in harm's way."

Daphne's eyes narrowed, "Saving a life isn't needless."

"It won't bring me back. Your Good Samaritan deeds won't get what you want."

She shrugged off his invisible hands after that comment and pulled the bike off the street, silencing the engine. Scanning the nearby trees and buildings, she didn't see any obvious signs of danger. But that didn't mean it wasn't lying in wait nearby.

She counted her bullets, three more left, and six already in the pistol at her side. Her rifle was secured to the cycle, essentially a useless paperweight since she last used it to hunt a rabbit a few days back. But she did have a combat knife in her boot and a single grenade, just in case things got...energetic.

Daphne faught the urge to call out, not wanting to send a possible horde of flesh-eating devils her way. She drew her pistol quietly, clicking back the hammer, and peeking around the corner.

Sure enough, there were about fifteen creatures, each with gnashing teeth and deadly claws. A few were very large, but most were average sized. Still, very dangerous to take on with limited ammunition and no back up.

But a life is a life. Wasn't it? What if that person was some poor woman's Fred trapped in there? Someone's dearest love?

Fred's whisper was panicked in her ear, "Don't you dare do it. Let them go. It's the way of the world now."

She refused to swipe at a tear that had squiggled down her face, "The Fred Jones I knew would never have said that. Death has changed you."

"No, Daphne. My death has changed _you_. You've always been reckless, but this," he gestured to the grotesque scene before them, "is borderline suicidal. Death by rescue mission."

Daphne peeked around the corner again, the snarls and growls of the mutants were growing louder as they attempted to bust into a poorly barricaded building. The smell of fresh meat and the sounds of struggle was luring more and more of them out from the nearby woods with each passing minute.

She closed her eyes and steeled herself for what she was about to do, "There are worse ways to die."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm going to try to barrel through. Watch my back!" Daphne commanded over her shoulder at her favorite blonde ghost.

"Like I have any other choice?" Fred hissed.

_I'm low on ammo. Gotta make each bullet count._

What she needed now was a good distraction. Something loud…

She picked up a brick and slung it hard, crashing it into the windshield of a nearby blue Nissan. As expected, a shrill car alarm began to wail, cutting through the dead silence of the town. Several of the monsters turned away from the barricaded building towards this new noise. New noise meant new food.

The alarm drew several beasts over to the car, who began smashing in what was left of the windshield in search of the human meat, not caring about the jagged glass slicing up their hands. A few more joined them out of a sense of pack mentality, lessening the larger mob.

She felt Fred's voice against her earlobe, making it twitch, "Now's your time to move, Daph."

Daphne didn't need to be told twice, as she pushed off from the wall and sprinted towards the barricade. Bringing up her pistol she fired two shots straight into the foreheads of the two biggest freaks, dropping them easily.

Hearing the pistol fire had caught the attention of a few more, who now turned in her direction, eyeing her with hunger. As she neared closer to her target, Daphne glimpsed two terrified human faces peeking out of a second story window.

_Good_, she thought, _they're still alive. Now to keep them that way…_

She picked up speed, hoping to bypass most of them, until one particularly fangy monster cut across her path. Firing two more bullets out of instinct, she missed, hitting the creature harmlessly in the chest.

_Damn_.

The mutated thing hissed at her, but Daphne kept going, not losing her momentum. She kicked out her boot, slamming the abomination hard in the chest, knocking it to the ground.

Daphne was so close to the building now, with only two smaller creatures blocking the way. This time her aim did not falter, and each bullet found it's place into their brains. The door swung open and Daphne all but jumped inside, while someone hastily shut the door and locked it up like Fort Knox.

Daphne fell to her knees, panting, gulping air into her burning lungs. She could hear the monsters banging on the barricades with blood-thirsty howls, but so far the metal door seemed to be holding...for now.

She turned around to face her new companions and was taken aback by how young they were. Both were just girls, maybe twelve and sixteen at most. The littlest girl smiled, but said nothing. The older one scowled, clutching her arm, "I suppose you're the calvary?"

Daphne cocked her eyebrows, shocked by the rudeness, "You suppose correctly. Except, I'm the only calvary for at least fifty miles in all directions. A thank you would be nice."

She heard Fred's exasperated whisper in her ear, "Take it easy on 'em, Daph. They're just kids who've been through hell."

The older girl frowned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I'm just in a lot of pain. My name's Trista," she nodded at the younger child, "This is my little cousin, Beverly."

Daphne introduced herself out of politeness and glanced down at Trista's hand. She noticed for the first time that three fingers were missing, bitten down to the knuckle. Fresh blood was still oozing down her wrist.

She nodded at Trista's injury, "Was it your scream I heard?"

"Yeah," Trista leaned against a wall, wrapping scraps of cloth around her hand to stem the blood flow. "I tried to keep quiet, but the pain…the pain is awful."

Daphne took off her green jacket, wrapping it around the unnatural amputation, "Here, try to hamper that bleeding. You'll need your wits about you if you want to make it of here alive."

She could hear Fred sigh beside her, "Daph…you better not do anything stupid."

"Too late for that," Daphne snarled, "You're dead and I'm already here."

Beverly gasped and Trista looked like she was about to faint or cry, possibly both. Seeing their terrified expressions, Daphne rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you two."

The cousins exchanged worried looks. Trista bit her lip nervously, "Ma'am, are you ok? Like…in the head?"

Daphne exhaled deeply, while picking out some dirt and grime from under her fingernails, "Honestly kid, I'm not sure. I spend most of my time talking to the ghost of my dead fiancè. But as of right now, I'm your best option at survival."

Going against her better judgment, Daphne held her gun out to Beverly, handle first. "Take this. Use what's left of the ammo to clear your path, and get to my motorcycle. The keys are still in the ignition. Just kick start it and go as far north as you can. My friend, Dr. Velma Dinkley, has a secure compound up there. I'll hot wire another ride later for myself."

Daphne added, "Go out the back way. I'll make a distraction from the side, lure the freaks away from you."

Trista shook Daphne's hand with her non-bloody one, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Both girls smiled at her kindness before clasping their hands together and leaving to find a way out.

Fred's voice was calm and sweet in her ear, "I got to hand it you, Daph. You've got a good heart. But you need to find a way home soon. Velma's frantically wiping her glasses every five minutes waiting for you to walk in the front gates."

Daphne smirked, "Why don't you just go haunt Velma for a while? Go tell her I'll be home soon enough."

He chuckled along with her, his laughter being a rarity in the end-of-times. "It doesn't work that way, love. You're the only one who can see and hear me."

"And feel," she added after feeling his invisible kiss to her cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

Daphne knew what to expect when she tossed the grenade out into the street. She knew it would provide a much needed distraction for the girls to make their getaway and hopefully, if luck was on her side, for herself. Being a journalist, she wasn't too familiar with explosives. All she knew about grenades she had learned from war movies. Once she pulled the pin and tossed it away there would be a loud bang, maybe a tremble in the earth, followed by a rain of rubble from the sky. What she didn't anticipate was a neighboring car to get involved.

It exploded with the grenade, creating a titanic fireball. The hungry flames consumed everything in it's path in a matter of seconds. It emitted a strong pulse, blowing sharp metal and pieces of cinder block every which way.

The sheer force of the double explosion picked Daphne up off her feet, slamming her hard into a brick wall, the contact knocking the wind from her lungs. Her brain rattled inside her skull, while the heat of the fire was painfully felt on any exposed skin.

She climbed to her knees, kneeling on all fours, but couldn't seem to get a good gulp of air. Her back ached, and her head pounded. And oddly…so did her stomach.

When her vision cleared enough for her to look at her surroundings, she was suprised at how different the immediate landscape was. The gigantic fireball was gone, leaving a carpet of tiny fires blazing. Most of the buildings were now piles of kindling and twisted steel. Various limbs and meaty viscera lay scattered about, with no sign of their mutilated owners. The world around her seemed like it would be roaring with sound, but all she could hear was a deafening ringing in her ears.

Daphne looked down at herself, taking her own inventory, and was suprised to see a jagged piece of rebar sticking out of her abdomen. She put her hand around it, gritted her teeth, and yanked hard. With a sickening squishy sound, the foreign object came free from her body, but so did blood, pouring generously from the deep wound.

She tossed the rebar aside, not caring about the loud clank it made against the scorched asphalt. Beyond the crackling of the fires, she heard growls and hisses, soft at first, but getting louder by the second.

She couldn't see Fred, but his ghostly voice was panicked in her ear, "You have to move Daphne. Right now!"

Daphne limped down an alleyway between two buildings that were still standing. She leaned against a dumpster, clutching her stomach.

_Damn_, _it_ _hurt_ _to_ _move_.

Fred spoke again, she could feel his hands on her back, gently pushing her, "You don't have time to rest! More are coming this way. Move your ass!"

She couldn't run in this condition, hell, walking was becoming strenuous. Her eyes darted around, looking for an idea. An imaginary light bulb blinked on when she noticed a rusty fire escape ladder near her head.

Daphne pointed to the safety ladder hanging just out of her reach. "Help me, Fred. Can you pull it down for me?"

A transparent arm stretched out over her head, yanking the ladder down just enough for her to grab hold. Planting her boots against the dumpster, she hoisted herself up.

She panted and cursed, the pain in her abdomen getting worse. She could hear the hungry freaks gathering around below, too stupid to climb. When she got to the top she pulled the levered rungs back up to prevent a "smart" creature from managing the climb. God knows she's seen quite a few of those. And it only takes one…

The rooftop was clear and relatively safe, provided no other monsters joined her. She stumbled towards the shade of a small metal shack at the roof's center.

Resting against the wall she noticed that her stomach was bleeding pretty freely, leaving a trail of evidence behind her across the roof.

Suddenly, she felt vulnerable. Needing some reassurance, and without looking around for Fred's phantom, Daphne asked, "Stay with me, Freddie. Please?"

He was conveniently standing beside her when she glanced up. He gestured to her stomach, fresh blood soaking through her shirt. "You're hurt real bad, Daph."

"Yeah," she sighed, "I know. Some shrapnel. I can feel some of it stuck inside too. It's gonna be one hell of an infection if I don't get back to HQ quick."

Daphne sagged against the rough metal shed, sliding down to sit on the tarred roof. Her strength was waning fast. Perhaps her injury was much worse than she thought.

She reached into her utility belt to pull out some bandages, taking several tries to grasp just one, her fingers slick with her own blood.

_Damn_.

Fred sat down beside her, holding his arms out. She slowly climbed into his embrace. He nodded his head in the direction the survivors drove in, the sounds of the motorcycle long gone. "Did you know that Trista's a biology genius. A real prodigy. She'll begin studying under Velma and create a new Leukemia vaccine, saving thousands of lives in the next few decades."

A light smirk spread across Daphne's face, "Good for Velma. She needs someone in that lab of hers to boss around besides me. Since when did you get the ability to see into the future, Freddie?"

Fred's palm now cradled her cheek. "We ghosts have lots of little talents. That little girl Beverly you saved? She ends up marrying Cliffy one day."

Daphne sighed, bright red blood flowing in copious amounts between her fingers. "She actually marries that one-armed rascal? I guess there's someone out there for everyone."

Fred leaned his head to hers, "Beverly never forgets the day that you saved their lives. Telling everyone she meets that you were so brave, like an Amazon warrior princess. She names her first daughter after you."

Daphne giggled, the blood loss making her whoozy. "That poor girl," Daphne clucked her tongue, "What does _my_ future hold, Fred? Does some…other handsome blonde…sweep me off my feet?…Do I die old…when my hair is grey and I'm…surrounded…by fat grandchildren?"

It was getting harder to talk. She never realized before how much effort it to took push words out of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, her arms and legs feeling like fifty pound weights. Daphne was suddenly so very tired.

Fred still hadn't answered her question.

"What happens…to me?" Daphne repeated.

Fred gently caressed her hair as she sunk low in his lap, leaning all of her weight against him. "Shhhhh, rest now," he hushed.

Despite being trapped on a rooftop, greviously wounded, isolated from her friends, defenseless, and easy game for any lingering monsters, she felt oddly at ease. The situation didn't seem so horrible.

Daphne felt Fred's lips graze her forehead, whispering, "It's gonna be alright. Sleep. I'm here."

And she did.


End file.
